


she fell, she crashed, she broke, she cried

by GraceHolmes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, Fallen Angels, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft To The Rescue, Mycroft deserves all the love, Mycroft in Love, Naomi (Supernatural) Lives, Naomi is queen, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Protective Mycroft, She Deserved Better, and i hate any story that uses her for shit, i will fight, i've claimed her, it's been 4 years and i'm still not over it, she is mine now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 07:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12076305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceHolmes/pseuds/GraceHolmes
Summary: Naomi survives her assassination by Metatron at the end of 8.23. She finds herself lost in London with another fallen angel, only to be attacked by a group of angels less than happy with what she'd spent years doing and left to die.





	1. The Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redonpointe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redonpointe/gifts).



> This short story will be in two chapters and is based on artwork my best friend did for our rare pair crossover OTP and an art challenge. It's beautiful and amazing and just had to have a story written about it. 
> 
> This is an established pairing fic, between the two of us we have several stories to check out if you wish to read a 'falling in love' story. See the Mycroft/Naomi tag. 
> 
> The art can be found here: angiecatdraws.tumblr.com/post/163043250057

 

_"she fell_  
_she crashed_  
_she broke_  
_she cried_  
_she crawled_  
_she hurt_  
_she surrendered_  
_and then…._  
_she rose again."  
_ _— Nausicaa Twila_

When Naomi, Angel of the Lord, crashed into Earth, she should have been already dead. The drill that had lodged into her skull was made from Heaven's finest metals. Strong enough to change memories, to dull thousands, to enslave the host. But the instrument of torture had been in her hand for the better part of ten thousand millennia. It would not betray her.

So she fell.

She crashed into Earth with thousands of other angels, landing with a giant splash into the cold water of the Thames. Once glorious wings shredded into bloody bones and mangled feathers. She should have died there too. There were strong hands there to fish her out of the water.

Naomi was no stranger to Earth. Her job in Heaven kept her in her office as a usual. However, running down to be among the humans and witness the battleground of the Apocalypse she hadn't seen through had allowed her to have experience on Earth where some angels did not. Besides, she'd needed time away from Heaven.

There was a human. A man she'd met many years before. Mycroft Holmes. Beautiful, intelligent, unique, sublime. Theirs was a friendship and kinship she'd never expected to experience. One she kept completely private. The fallout of anyone learning this entanglement would have been disastrous. She loved him dearly, possessively, completely. If she was to fall to Earth, his was the home she wanted to be in.  _He_ was her home. And it was he, she longed for.

Except for the hands that pulled her from the water were not those of her lover. But that of another angel.

Yofiel had been one of her minions. One she commanded and sent to various places to help her in her work. He knew her ways. He sat in her chair and had been under her drill. But she'd never reset him completely. He had never been as ruthless or as hard as she, nor as strong-willed as Castiel or Anael. But he understood what had to be done in ways that many others had not.

She didn't trust him, but at this moment in time with blood dripping down her head and everything shattered on the e, she had little choice. They were fallen creatures in an alien land.

The two of them fled the river before a crowd gathered. The humans that occupied the streets of the wee hours in the morning had their eyes yet on the sky, watching as the last of the angels fell to Earth and never knowing how much of a disaster it was going to be.

She and Yofiel quickly found shelter in the corner of a building to get out of England's late spring rain. There they stayed, huddled together in complete silence like two lost puppies in a world that didn't understand them. Naomi hurt so much and hovered in-between consciousness and unconsciousness as if on the whim of a summer breeze.

"Hey you!" The female voice called out into the alley from the street, her figure just outlined in the light of the early dawn and street lamps. The accent was decidedly north London and no-nonsense. "You can't be sleeping in the alley here, the coppers will find ya." Footsteps. "You alive?"

Yofiel turned his face towards the human woman, brown eyes almost completely black in the shadows. "Yes, we are. However, my companion is bleeding and we must rest. We have nowhere else to go."

"Americans? Makes me wonder what you got into." The woman paused as if to contemplate. "But I've got a spot open at the shelter for the day. Catholic run, I'll give you more information. Clothes too, if you need them. Come on. Don't dawdle, you've probably caught a chill as is."

Long minutes later, the weary pair was escorted inside a building next to a church. They took the change of clothes but denied a bed or any offering of food. As well as a suggestion of an A&E visit. There was no need to visit a human hospital, they wouldn't be able to help.

Naomi stumbled into the ladies room and let the door clothes behind her with a weary sigh. The figure in the mirror looked nothing of the vessel the angel queen had kept up year after year. And she felt it. She was ragged, bloody, dirty, and strings of auburn hair hung in her face. She turned away. Layer after uptight layer the grey and white suit ended up in the garbage. Until Naomi had only a towel to wrap her naked vessel up in. Her movements came slow and methodic.

"I've got a medical kit here, to clean you up a bit," the woman said, peeking in to catch Naomi's bare back. "Oh! Sorry."

"It's fine," Naomi said. "I am in a considerable amount of pain. I would appreciate the help."

"I know you said no hospital, but I am obligated to call if you pass out," she said. "My name is Peggy, by the way."

"Naomi."

"Beautiful name," Peggy complimented, silently slipping on a pair of disposable gloves.

"I suppose it was, at the moment it just seems broken," Naomi answered distantly. Her eyes closed when the woman's fingers gently touched her head. Hands of healing. Nothing like Naomi's own.

"Nothing a little time can't heal."

"I suppose we'll see."

Eventually, the blood was cleaned away and Peggy gently squeezed Naomi's shoulder before she excused herself. Now alone, Naomi put her dark auburn hair back up in a loose bun and slipped out of the towel. In its place she donned a simple burgundy sweater and a black skirt from the donation bins. Understated, but comfortable and professional.

The only thing she was missing was the ring on her left hand. The symbol of her love for her human lover. Mycroft had the ring, as usual.

The longing for him hit her all of a sudden and intensely. But she was still alone. She'd never needed his phone number, and her attempts to contact him through prayer and dreams had ended with nothing. She was on her own.

By the time she made it back out into the common room, Yofiel was already there and paging through a Teen Vogue magazine with obvious curiosity. The room itself wasn't terribly big, but it had cozy sofas and chairs with tables, as well as a number of lamps and a television in the corner. It was empty save the two of them. Peggy was nowhere to be found. At least it gave them the necessary privacy they needed to discuss the current state of affairs. Naomi glanced over her shoulder to verify.

"Humans are very strange creatures," he said as she sat down. "I'm not sure how interactions will go from this point out.

"I know," Naomi answered. She crossed her legs and breathed out a calming breath she didn't need. "But some of them…they're worth the strangeness. Some of them transcend the others."

Yofiel closed the magazine. "How's the pain?"

"Still very present," Naomi said. There was no point in hiding anything from him at this point. "My strength has not returned and I feel very weak."

He hesitated before he spoke again, the pause filled with only the sound of a refrigerator in the kitchen and the light footsteps of the beginning of the morning routines a distance off. "At this point, we should lay low, I think. Stay here until you're feeling well again. I don't know what else we're supposed to do."

"I don't know either," she admitted. "I've done…so many things wrong, I can't even begin to attempt an understanding of how to rectify it."

"We both have things to do, Heaven's mistakes rest not solely on your shoulders," Yofiel said. "We'll figure it out. Together."

Naomi almost smiled, the light in her eyes softening to almost fondness. At least understanding. While most of Heaven would have gladly seen her suffer, she had someone to count on in this dark and disparaging world. "Yes, together."

Little did she know, they'd never get that chance.

* * *

Mycroft Holmes had been in Germany when the 'global meteor shower' cascaded down onto the Earth. He'd known immediately that something was amiss. But the Summit meetings he was attending were delicate such that he couldn't just make an escape. His presence was needed. There'd be no going home to start the search for her. Especially with no knowledge of where Naomi was or what had happened. His prayers were met with nothing.

He'd sent his best people on it, however, but even after hanging up the phone, his mind was not eased. He knew she'd been more than stressed this last year, struggling with something she hadn't ever shared in full. The distance, emotionally and physically, had been painful. But he had hope enough to know they could push through it.

He always expected her to come home to him. Until the lights had fallen from the firmament. Something was wrong, he could feel it inexplicably in his very soul.

Just one more day to go.

His flight back to London took too long for his taste. The long minutes and hours of hoops to jump did nothing to ease his mind. He was tired. Fortunately the quiet of his private plane gave him room to think.

There, he changed out of his three-piece suit into the slightly dressed down but no less elegant cashmere jumper over a dress shirt and trousers. Diverse and breathable. There were no meetings to attend, he'd just be headed home in anticipation of a long night searching for his angel wife. He would find her. Her wedding ring had a special storage place in his pocket watch, and he was going to put it back on her finger if it took overturning the whole world to bring her home.

* * *

Naomi and Yofiel spent many hours in the church's homeless shelter's common room. Mostly in silence for there was little to say now. No plans could be made until the chaos of the initial angel descent had cleared. Heaven's children cried out in pain. So many had died. Naomi could feel it even through her own injury. The day passed with the rare check in from Peggy and the passing through of other occupants of the shelter.

Naomi meditated inwards. Her thoughts dwelt on her sins, the abandoned world she had not helped, and the broken Heaven she'd not saved.

"Naomi, something is wrong-"

Yofiel's voice, with the shouting of humans and the slamming of doors, pulled her out of her head and she turned just in time to see three angels burst into their little sanctuary. Angel blades in hand. Eyes fierce. Wings in a similar state of disrepair. Yofiel stood quickly, Naomi was slower to follow.

"What do you want, brother?" Yofiel said, bringing his blade to his hand with a flick of his wrist.

"Justice," the other angel answered deeply. Naomi recalled his name was Rama.

"Violence will not be tolerated," Naomi said, standing to Yofiel's right. No blade in hand. Yet. Her eyes flicked to the two other angels that slipped in after Rama. This wasn't going to be a negotiation, they were after blood. She raised her chin. "It is not the time, not after what happened to us."

"You are the weeds among the harvest, Naomi," Rama said. "Yes, we know  _you_. And what you did to us. You are a monster. You and your minions are not of 'us' any longer. You will be scourged."

Naomi's jaw clenched and she brought the blade into her palm. Its weight was not foreign to her, but she had been far more comfortable with her tool in the many millennia past. "We mean you no harm. I know we have lost our way, I want to find a way to return to it. Please."

"It's far too late for that."

The new angels were done talking. They attacked as a single unit. Warriors in the field, soldiers in their comfort zone. Naomi was trained and had natural instincts like any other high ranking angel, but she'd spent years in an office working information and strategy. And her injury slowed her considerably. Her skills would not compare to others. Terrified, she fought for her life alongside her new friend.

Rama went for her while the other two engaged Yofiel. The angel blades clashed in sharp rhythmic sounds that echoed in the common room. Naomi couldn't speak, couldn't argue, couldn't even beg for a moment to bargain for their lives. All she did was fight. Time seemed a blur in the face of it all.

She didn't see it when it happened, rather she  _felt_ the implosion of an angel's grace. Death came too quickly. Yofiel had been overwhelmed by the other two. The blade pushed through his chest in a sickening crunch. His vessel collapsed, blood seeping out of the wound as broken wings burnt into the carpeted floor.

The air stilled. No one moved.

"Your death will not be as merciful," Rama said to Naomi, breaking the silence. She flashed her eyes at him. In a swift motion, he jabbed an elbow at her. The force of it sent her flying back into and over one of the couches.

Naomi landed in a terrified sprawl of broken angel. She didn't have time to recover before they descended upon her. Rama held in his hand not an angel blade, but a weapon of Heaven. The dagger of King David was beautiful, with jewels along the hilt. Small and thin enough to be concealed easily on one's person, large enough to cause serious damage. Naomi didn't have much time to consider it otherwise before Rama stabbed it into her heart.

No noise came out of her mouth but her body arched as the pain exploded inside of her. Whatever power had been imbued into the heavenly weapon was terrorizing, eating,  _chewing_  away at her grace. The wound was ground zero, from it her grace didn't just leak but burst out. Random light jolted through her in waves of electrical agonizing pain.

"It will be long and painful, Naomi, nothing short of what you deserve for what you did to us. This is your execution," Rama hissed in her ear. He stood up, spat at her, and then moved out of view. The three angels escaped quickly and quietly, leaving Naomi and the still body of Yofiel's vessel alone.

Lightning crackled out of her. She could felt every flare of it, the fire bursting out of her. If an angel blade entering her person made one's grace implode, this method was nothing short of the whole experience in slow motion. Every moment brought to an agonizing and screeching halt.

Naomi's blue eyes shown with dying light, reflecting the electricity coming out of her vessel. The lights in the room died like the power had gone out. She couldn't hear the panicked voices of humans or understand what was happening outside of her little bubble of execution. It didn't really matter, did it? She was going to die. Mycroft flashed into her thoughts, his presence in her mind strong as the lightning that seized her vessel. He was the only thing that mattered now. Her mistakes had cost them both everything.

" _I'm sorry...beloved."_


	2. To Rise Again

Mycroft Holmes pushed his way through a small crowd, which included first responders, victims, and busybodies. He didn't pay them much attention aside to verify Naomi wasn't among them and headed towards the front door, but someone grabbed his arm.

"Hey! You can't go in there, it's dangerous."

"Let me go," Mycroft ordered, ridding himself of the hand that was attempting to keep him away from his wife.

The man was persistent, however. "It's an electrical disturbance, I've got an officer down. We're keeping everyone out until we know what happened."

Mycroft leveled his gaze on him.  _Officer T. Harrington_. He could see enough about him to know he took great pride in his job, even if he wasn't the most competent, he still did well. Mycroft towered over him, all dangerous gaze and serious words. "My name is Mycroft Holmes, if you don't know it, you should count yourself fortunate. But I have the highest security clearance in the nation. I will go inside under the knowledge of its danger because my  _wife_  is in there and I am not going to leave her alone. Do you understand?"

Harrington, whether he believed Mycroft or not, couldn't come up with a response. And apparently, there was more to take care of than some lunatic with a hero complex. Without a delay, Mycroft left him and the others behind. He stepped through the front doors with care, slowing only to assess the situation.

The building, a homeless shelter adjacent to a Catholic church, was completely dark inside save for the flashes coming from down the hall. Someone on the outside had likely flipped a breaker off in response to the electrical disturbances. Mycroft saw signs that the inhabitants had been evacuated, as well as the place where the first responders had come into contact with the electricity and abandoned the supernatural thing to take care of those already injured. Mycroft had other plans.

Finding Naomi hadn't been hard, actually, once he got back to London. Not at the rate he acquired information. Considering as unusual as the attack had been, a source talked to another source, passing along the information as usual through the filtered channels. Only minutes after the phenomenon had occurred, Mycroft Holmes knew about it. His car had dropped him off shortly after. Now there he was, walking into danger like a man on a mission. Like a man going after the woman he loved.

The lightning was white. And nothing of this earth. It lit up his eyes and cast his solemn features into shadow. When he entered the room in question, what had happened was apparent immediately. The overturned furniture, the male body on the ground with wings shadowed into the old carpet, the blood. He didn't study it long. There was no time. His eyes were drawn to the source of the light itself.

Naomi lay on her back. Alive. She was not still, but her entire body tensed, seized, and twitched with the jolts of power leaving her grace. Tears glinted on her cheeks, spilling from eyes pinched closed.

Mycroft's heart nearly broken in two at the sight of his lover in such a state. With very little heed to his own safety, he headed over. "Naomi? I'm right here."

Her eyes didn't open, but she turned her face towards him. Seeking him out in the darkness of her suffering. "…darling. Stay back…I can't…"

The lightning glowed brighter all of a sudden and in a wave of explosive power, Mycroft found himself being picked up and tossed backward. His back hit into the arm of an old couch and he collapsed into the cushions. Slightly stunned, but not injured or shocked, it still took a moment to take stock of himself. He couldn't understand what was happening to her. It was divine, supernatural, and beyond his experience. But he knew she was in pain. He needed to do something about it.

"I'm not leaving you here, we're going to fix this," he said as he pushed himself up. He swept his eyes over her and without further delay made his way over. "What can I do?"

The sound of a sob escaped her lips, and her tears only got worse as his arms wrapped her up. "I'm going to die," she whispered. "I'm…sorry, I can feel it."

He slipped his arm under her shoulders, propping her in his lap, and used his free hand to cup her face. "You'll do nothing of the sort, dear heart," he whispered. "I'll figure out how to save you, I promise."

Naomi's body tensed with another release of heavenly lightning. Thankfully it didn't last long. Her eyes opened. The usual vibrant blue was a dull glowing white. As if she was in the slow-motion process of dying. "Listen to me," she cried softly. "I love you…I love you so much. And I'm sorry…I should have been better…"

"Nonsense. Stay with me." Mycroft could barely breathe for the pain in his chest. Her intelligence and beauty were beyond measure, always had been. He could not ever think to live without her. "We're going home."

"Don't forget…I love you…"

Mycroft felt her body go limp in his arms and he couldn't do anything about it. His calls of her name were met with nothing. "No, no, no, no, no. You can't leave me. I need you. Naomi?  _Please._ "

Unwanted emotion burned in his throat. His head pounded. The lightning had not ceased, so she couldn't be dead. Not when her vessel still drew breath. With every determined molecule of strength he had, he gathered her in his arms and stood up.

It had been impossible to forget when he'd been with her, that he was in the presence of divine eternity, beauty beyond measure, an intelligence of ages, a creature of such enigma, real flaws and motivations. And now, as he carried her out of the place that should have been her execution chamber, it stayed in his mind. Her body remained still as the grace lightning licked out of her and shot towards the sky. For some reason, it didn't touch him either. Her head had tipped back, throat exposed, in her vulnerability.

Mycroft could not watch her die, it would be like losing a part of himself. She was his soulmate. When they'd first met all those years ago, they'd been two lonely creatures that understood each other in ways that transcended everything around them.

He walked out of the building, drawing the attention of everyone on the street. Dozens of eyes settled on the supernatural creature in the determined man's arms. They gave him a wide berth, no one bothered trying to stop him. It was the parade of a dying angel. If there were whispers or cameras, he ignored them and slipped into the back of his car. His faithful chauffeur drove them away through the gathered traffic with an expert hand. Mycroft paid little attention. He adjusted Naomi on his lap and resting her head on his shoulder, cupping her face in his hand to monitor her breathing. They stayed like that for the remainder of the drive back to his mansion estate. It took far too long.

He dismissed his driver with one word and carried his dying angel into their home. They'd be left alone.

"We're home, beloved," he said quietly, begging her to wake up as he settled into the closest chair. "Naomi? Wake up, please."

Inexplicably her eyes opened again, the soft glow behind them matched the shining from her chest. Tired would have been an understatement for the expression on her face caught in the lightning bolts that jumped to the ceiling, missing him by only centimeters. She was dying. But apparently had regained enough strength to speak. "…sorry."

Mycroft drew in a shaky breath. "Please, is there anything we can do? Anything at all? I can't…I can't lose you."

Naomi was quiet, her eyes just fixed on his face. "Your soul…" she breathed. "It's possible…if I touch it, I can….have the strength to survive….long shot…I don't know….and it's very painful."

"I'll do anything."

"I could…kill you, inadvertently,"

"It's worth the risk," he vowed. "Do what you must. I'm yours. I trust you."

"Forgive me…" Tears had spilled from her eyes again. She lifted a shaky hand to tenderly brush over his cheek. She worked her way down to his chest, resting above his heart. There she stopped. The hesitation was the only warning since he'd already given his permission, and without another word, Naomi reached inside towards his soul. Like brushing an unstable nuclear reactor with a steel feather and hoping it didn't explode.

The pain was unlike anything Mycroft had ever experienced before. Every cell in his body was on fire from the inside out, burning, electrifying, consuming the very center of his being. Mycroft tipped his head back and let out a pained scream, loud and guttural, in the otherwise empty and dark room. Time might have stood still for the agony that his body and soul was going through. It felt like it would never end.

Naomi held on tightly, ensuring neither one of them was overwhelmed by the sheer power that had been unleashed, as well as making sure her own injury would not be transferred to him in the process. The energy flowed into her.

Eventually, she pulled her hand away from his vibrant soul. The lightning had diminished, the lights faded, and all that was left was a very broken couple in a leather wingback chair. Long seconds passed before either had the strength to speak.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again, resting her hand over his beating heart.

"All is forgiven," he breathed back hoarsely. "How are you feeling?"

"Not good…but not like I'm going to die."

"I think I'm about the same."

Naomi almost smiled. "I love you. Always…. Sleep, my darling."

"Love you too…I've got you now…" Mycroft fell asleep right there with his angel wife in his arms, completely heedless to the world outside. They had found sanctuary.

* * *

Naomi would fall into herself very shortly. Her healing needed too much time yet. She'd suffered too much over the last few days for it to come easily. But she was safe in the arms of her human lover. Mycroft sacrificed so much for the ones he held dear. She knew.

He'd fallen asleep only moments ago, his voice still echoed softly in her mind. Naomi's eyes peeked open. There she could see the aging angle of his face, the sharp point of his nose, and the slow rise and fall of his chest. He was so beautiful. Beyond words, beyond centuries.

The sins that haunted her, those dead voices crying out, they followed her too. They were the reminder that she had not taken care of Creation as the angels should have. She'd been selfish, zealous, focused on the one thing she wanted above all else. She should have died, more than once now. And yet, she pressed on. Perhaps it was this beautiful human man holding her, who'd sacrificed much as well.

Naomi rested her head on his chest, her hand on his heart to ensure he kept breathing. "You're extraordinary, my beloved, my heart," she whispered. "I'll be right here."

* * *

When Mycroft woke up, a confusion cloud fogged his mind. Why did absolutely everything hurt? What was the warm weight on him? Where was he? Why was the sunlight so bright in the windows?

His eyes fluttered open and the answers to each became more apparent. Naomi rested in his arms. Safe. Breathing. Warm and alive. The hole in her chest was naught but a dark cauterized divot above her heart with no leaking silvery grace. The pain throughout him was because of her. Because instead of her life withering away, he'd offered part of his soul to recharge her. He'd do that and more. He would do anything and everything for the ones he loved.

He inhaled deeply and turned his head to press a kiss to her forehead. "Naomi?" He rumbled softly.

She turned her head towards him, burying her nose in his shoulder. "I'mmm here," she murmured. "Still alive."

"Same here."

She smoothed her hand over his chest, fiddling a bit with the collar of his shirt. "How do you feel?"

"Everything hurts, and I'm hungry, but I think I'll make it."

"Looks like we both will. I can't thank you enough…for what you did. And coming to get me. I would have died if you hadn't been there."

"Anything for you, for us. Whatever you did, whatever you need to be sorry for, I forgive you." Mycroft turned his head and pressed a soft lingering kiss to her temple.

Naomi sniffed back the tears that had welled in her eyes. "I don't deserve that. I hurt so many,  _too_ many. I can't begin to contemplate getting on the proper path."

"We'll start here at home and take it one day at a time," he promised. "You're safe here."

 _Safe._ Naomi smiled like she felt truly and honestly safe for the first time in days. "I need to hide. They'll come looking for me if they know I'm alive. I've survived two different assassination attempts in the last few days, I don't think I'll make it through another. They'll be more prepared to finish it."

Mycroft's long fingers gently caressed her cheek. "I can ensure the house is warded against them. You taught me well."

"Who knew we'd need it for this? I wasn't planning on the fall of Heaven, I can't-"

"I don't care to discuss it," he answered without shame or dishonesty. "What else do you need?"

Naomi turned her head to press a grateful soft kiss against his fingers. "Just to be held by you. Everything else will fall into place."

"I think you're done falling, my beloved," Mycroft said. He pressed his forehead against hers. "Now…you're going to rise."


End file.
